Artemis and the Chocolate Factory
by Wonkaverse
Summary: How the legendary tour in Willy Wonka's factory would have turned out if the most intelligent child in Western Europe had wanted to find a Golden Ticket.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: all familiar material belongs to either Roald Dahl, author of _Charlie and the Chocolate Factory_, Warner Bros. for the film adaptations of the book, and Eoin Colfer, author of the _Artemis Fowl series._

**About this story**: this takes place before Artemis' father goes missing, before the yong genius takes the responsibilities of the family business upon himself. The tour is a fusion between content from the book and the two movies.

**Author's Note**: please review or comment so that I'll know if anyone likes this idea!

* * *

><p>The Hunt for Golden Tickets<p>

It was no surprise that, when Mr. Willy Wonka sent out five marvelous Golden Tickets, they should all have been found by the greediest, wealthiest, or most ingenious children. Not even the luckiest poor boy in the world stood a chance of finding one; even most average children who could afford to buy a Wonka bar every day did not stand a chance of finding one of the elusive Tickets...especially when they were pitted against the most intelligent child in Western Europe.

His name was Artemis Fowl. And though he was exquisitely wealthy, and in some cases selfish, he was a generally decent for a ten year old boy, as well as cultured and abnormally intelligent. He only had to buy one candy bar to find his ticket, and though he had not yet torn open the wrapper, he knew the ticket was there in his hands. His family did not know he had even purchased a candy bar; or rather they were incapable of such knowledge. His father had gone on a business trip to Russia not more than two weeks ago, and his mother had busied herself with household affairs, leaving Artemis to his own schemes. Of course, Artemis was never alone; a manservant followed him wherever he went, keeping his eye on the mischievous boy. And though he never interfered in Artemis' affairs, he was always there to protect his Principal...in his case, Artemis Fowl.

Artemis' young age had not prevented him from committing nefarious acts of crime; in fact, his youthful appearance often furthered the productivity of his criminal affairs. People almost always underestimated the abilities of the young Fowl, and that misconception usually led to their downfall. In this particular case, however, Artemis was not thinking of committing illegal acts. For perhaps the first time in his life, he was thinking not of money, not of gold or a possible profit. From the first moment he had tasted Wonka chocolate, he had found something that appealed to his inner child, the real, innocent Artemis that he disguised behind a mask of grim intelligence. For once, he wanted to treat that part of him. For once, he wanted to act like the kid he was supposed to be. So he had bought a single Wonka bar, the one he now held in his hands. He knew there was a ticket inside; his genius mind had told him that. Rather than tear it open, however, he casually laid it on a table in his private chambers, calmly running his hand over the shiny wrapper. It read: Wonka Whipplescrumptious Fudgemallow Delight. His manservant and protector, Butler, stepped closer to the table, his huge form towering over Artemis while he read the candy wrapper.

"Are you certain this is the one, Master Fowl?"

Artemis smiled faintly, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Of course, Butler. Finding the Ticket is a rather elementary process: check the manufacturing date, offset by weather, and the derivative of the Nikkei index. It would not take a genius to figure that out."

Butler did not doubt his young charge's intelligence; he had seen various manifestations of it in the past, but he did not look completely convinced. "If you are so certain, then why will you not open it?"

Artemis pulled a television remote from beneath the table, pointing it to the set on the opposite side of the room. "I wanted to see the other winners first. Though a tour in Wonka's factory would be a marvelous prize in itself, I have a feeling that Mr. Wonka has something else in mind. Otherwise he would not have sent out only five Tickets. I think the tour is a disguise for something else."

"Like an evaluation of some sort?"

"Perhaps. In that case, the other ticket winners would be nothing more than competition. And while I may possess a higher intelligence than the other ticket winners, I admit that I am lacking in social skills. That, perhaps, may be the determining factor during the tour in Wonka's factory." He paused to flick through the television channels, searching for a news station. "The purpose of my waiting, Butler, is so that in the event one or more of the other children possesses better social skills than I, I may simply slip the unopened candybar to someone more deserving."

Butler gave him a dubious look. "Surely that is not all you would do."

Artemis feigned a look of innocence, giving up when Butler's knowing expression did not change.

"Well, no. I suppose that is not all. I would give the candybar to someone more deserving, but then the recipient would naturally be indebted to me for providing such a wonderful opportunity. He would owe me a favor. Maybe two."

"You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours?"

Artemis nodded. "A relevant American metaphor, though in this case it would relate to chocolate." He found a news program on BBC and settled back to watch.

A news reporter from Germany was interviewing a local family, the Gloops, as they dined at an expensive restaurant. Though the words were translated into English subtitles, Artemis understood German and didn't bother reading the poorly translated phrases at the bottom of the screen. Instead, he watched the family of interest, analyzing them from their body language and speech patterns.

Both parents were, frankly, obese. Their faces and arms were paste-colored and pudgy, making Artemis think of great balls of dough being readied for baking. Their son Augustus, who had found the Golden Ticket, looked no different than his parents. He shoveled food into his mouth at an alarming rate, blatantly ignoring the reporters who were trying to get the story from him. They turned to the parents instead.

"I just knew Augustus would find a Golden Ticket," Mrs. Gloop said proudly, dabbing conscientiously at her flabby face with a napkin. "He eats so many candybars a day, that it was impossible for him not to find one!"

"It's all vitamins anyway," Mr. Gloop added. "He wouldn't eat like that if he didn't need them. We are proud of him, we are!"

Artemis stifled a snicker, looking away from the television to meet Butler's questioning gaze. "Do you think I have a chance of overcoming him in a personality contest?"

Butler's expression didn't change, but Artemis could have sworn he had seen a flash of smugness pass through the manservant's eyes.

"More than enough, sir. That sod will not get far in life; he would eat any benefactor out of house and home, and would no doubt die early of a heart attack."

Artemis nodded, glancing back to the candybar on the table. He could keep it...for now.

Three days passed without news of the Golden Tickets, and Artemis busied himself with other matters. While his mother was gone from the house, he checked on the progression of numerous criminal activities he had begun...draining assets from the Swedish bank accounts of various Mafiya mob bosses, hacking into the database of the MI6, funding a raid of Egyptian tombs... He was so absorbed in this work that he did not hear Butler entering the command center, a remote in hand. The manservant cleared his throat. "Mater Fowl."

Artemis tore himself away from the compound screens, an irritated look in his eyes. "Yes, Butler?"

The manservant was not perturbed by Artemis' tone; he often found the boy's piercing gaze to be somewhat unsettling, but he had grown used to the response he received when he interrupted a scheme in the works. He merely held out the remote. "Another Ticket has been found, sir."

Artemis' irritation vanished suddenly, and his countenance became like that of an eager child. He seized the remote with an excitement that surprised even Butler, who had never seen the boy act this way before. Artemis stood up from the screens, following Butler into the living area where a television stood. He pointed the remote, the screen flickering to life as he seated himself on a gold-trimmed divan. Butler stood behind, hands clasped in front of him.

The news channel had live coverage of the story, and Artemis found himself intrigued as he watched news reporters entering a large building, the words SALT NUTS INC painted in huge lettering on the outside wall. The place, apparently, was a factory; the cameraman panned back and forth to take in the expanse of the facility before following the reporters to the administrative offices, where the interview was to take place. Mr. Salt, CEO of Salt Nuts Incorporated, was eager to recount the story of the Ticket find to the reporters.

"You see, fellows, as soon as my little girl told me she had to have one of those Golden Tickets, I went tout into the town and started buying up all the Wonka candy bars I could lay my hands on. Thousands of them I must have bought. Hundreds of thousands. Then I had them loaded onto trucks and sent directly to this factory, which you probably had the opportunity to see before coming to my office. The nut business, you see, requires numerous workers to shell the nuts from the husks. I have about a hundred workers shelling nuts around the clock, and the nuts are then roasted or salted, then sent to packaging...but I digress. After I bought the Wonka bars, I told my workers, 'okay, everyone, from now on you can stop shelling peanuts and start shelling the wrappers off these candybars instead.'" And they did, from dawn till dusk. Three days went by, and we had no luck. Oh, it was terrible! My little Veruca got more and more upset each day. She would throw a tantrum, refuse to go to school until she had one. And as I value a good education, and civilised behavior, I vowed I would keep up the search until I found a Golden Ticket for her. Well, on the fourth day, we finally found one. I gave it to Veruca, and now she's back in school and as well behaved as ever, and we have a happy home again."

The camera panned to show the whole of the happy family, Mr. Salt on one side, Mrs. Salt on the other, and their daughter Veruca standing between them and waving her Golden Ticket with a smug sort of excitement.

Artemis raised a brow as he analyzed her figure. By her appearance she was about eleven, English, and an heir to wealth...she was wearing a pretty pastel pink dress, an ermine-layered cloak draped across her shoulders. Artemis felt something stir in his chest. Not an attraction to her, but to her wealth. A possible ally, he thought, but as he evaluated her further, he put away his former idea. She was young, inexperienced, and infantile. She whined for what she wanted, and threw a tantrum like a toddler would. It didn't help that her parents coddled her and gave her everything she wanted, though he could not deny he was slightly jealous. I _wish my parents would at least make an effort for me_, he thought distantly. A second later he banished the feeling of longing. It wasn't becoming of a criminal mastermind, after all.

"Do you think Mr. Wonka would find her appealing?" he casually asked Butler. He knew the man had an uncanny ability for discerning the true character of people by the way they looked or acted. After a moment, Butler shook his head. "She is a spoiled one. Neither conducive to business, nor attractive in a physical sense. Though her relationship to the CEO of Europe's largest nut company might play a factor in a contest of popularity."

Artemis grunted...a rare expression on his part...and he shrugged. "A viable opponent, but not a real risk. I highly doubt Mr. Wonka would select anyone because of business connections, but it would not hurt to be unduly suspicious." He looked to the television again, eyes narrowed at the video footage of the prim girl waving her Golden Ticket in front of the camera. And as he continued to watch, he felt more and more certain that he hated her.

The next day, Artemis was once again sitting before the numerous screens in his command room, monitoring the activities of his rivals. Many men had tried in vain to outsmart Artemis Fowl, though they never knew his real name...or the fact that he was only ten. It was a source of personal delight to him, as well as a way to keep funds flowing into the Fowl treasury while his father was away. Today, however, he had made sure to devote one of the screens to news feed, which was the reason he heard a newscaster announce that two more Golden Tickets had been found.

The third Golden Ticket was found by a girl named Violet Beauregarde, an American as Artemis determined from her appearance and accent, though it was difficult to understand what she was saying during the interview because she was chewing loudly on a piece of gum while talking.

"I'm a gumchewer mostly, but when I heard about these ticket things, I laid off the gum and switched to candybars instead. Of course, I'm right back on gum again. I chew it all day, except at mealtimes when I stick it behind my ear..."

Artemis made a slightly disgusted look here,

"I simply adore gum! It may interest you to know that this piece of gum that I'm chewing right now is one I've been working on for three months solid! And that's a record! It's beaten the record held by my best friend, Miss Cornelia Prinzmetal, and boy is she mad! Oh, I'm also excited to be going to Mr. Wonka's factory, and I understand that he'll be giving me enough gum to last me the rest of my life! Hurray!"

The disgusted look remained on Artemis' face, though he did not look away from the screen. Butler had come in behind him, and regarded the news with a shake of the head. "American."

"Not all of them are like that," Artemis said. "Luckily."

The program cut to a commercial, during which Artemis checked the other screens. He managed to attach a nasty virus onto a competitor's website, then covered his tracks before the news came back on. The next story was about the fourth ticket winner, another American, named Mike Teavee.

Reporters and cameramen had crowded into the Teavee home to get an interview with the lucky finder, but the boy seemed frustrated with the whole business. newscasters asked him questions, and cameras flashed constantly, but Mike was oblivious to it all, his eyes glued to a television screen.

"Can't you fellas go bug someone else? I'm trying to watch this show!"

The reporters turned to the parents instead.

"Kids these days," Mr. Teavee sighed, "what with technology and all…don't stay kids for very long."

Mrs. Teavee didn't seem flustered by her son's behavior at all. "I serve all his meals right here. He's never even been to the table. But he doesn't cause any trouble, like the hooligans and gangsters out there. He's such a good boy."

Artemis gazed steadily at the screen, his eyes glittering, while he unconsciously pulled out the candybar he had been keeping in his pocket for this moment. "The consensus, Butler?"

"Opinion, or fact, Master Fowl?"

"Both."

The manservant appeared thoughtful, a shadow of a grin gracing his lips. "I would not choose any of them, if I were Mr. Wonka. They lack both civility and intellect to be chosen for anything."

Artemis smiled as he opened the candybar, revealing a flash of gold. "I thought the same."


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: all familiar material belongs to either Roald Dahl, author of _Charlie and the Chocolate Factory_, Warner Bros. for the film adaptations of the book, and Eoin Colfer, author of the _Artemis Fowl series._

**A.N.** Much t_hanks to **Harry Artemis Jackson** for commenting! Public approval is the reason this continues! Reader input is valued, so don't be shy when it comes to giving your thoughts, likes, or dislikes about the story!_

* * *

><p>The Tour Begins<p>

The sun was shining brightly on the morning of the big day, but the ground was still white with snow and the air was very cold. Outside the gates of Wonka's factory, enormous crowds of people had gathered to watch the four lucky ticket holders going in. There had been no news on the fifth, and as Mr. Wonka had not sent any word out about postponing the tour until the last ticket was recovered, everyone assumed he would lead the other four into his factory. The excitement was tremendous. It was just before ten o'clock. The crowds were rushing and shouting, and policemen with arms linked were trying to hold them back from the gates. Suddenly a long black limousine came up the street, the crowd getting out of the way for fear of being run over. All eyes were diverted from the factory gates to see what the commotion was; even the four famous children, along with their parents, looked over to see what was so important that the crowd was no longer looking at them. The limousine stopped, a man in chauffeur garb getting out to open the passenger doors. Out of one side emerged Butler, dressed in a creaseless suit that also managed to conceal his various weapons. From the other side, Artemis stepped out, also wearing a suit, and feeling very conspicuous as the eyes of the throng focused on this strange new arrival.

"Good day, sir," the chauffeur said, closing the door. He returned to the front, waving to Artemis before driving away.

Butler placed a hand on his Principal's shoulder. "Are you ready?"

Artemis swallowed. He was not afraid; he had never been afraid before. But he did feel nervous. The eyes of hundreds of people were focused on him as he and Butler walked toward the gates. When they were about halfway there, someone remembered to ask questions, setting the crowd into a frenzy. Reporters shouted inquiries at the new arrival, asking his name, his relation to the big man with him, did he find the last ticket, and the like. Artemis did not answer; he could not. He had just discovered that he hated crowds, and was reminded why he liked being home so much. It was quiet. He could meditate, could hear himself think. But here, his genius mind was all but drowned out by the noise.

Butler, sensing the unease of his young charge, gently nudged the boy forward, serving as a living shield between him and the horde of reporters. He felt Artemis relax slightly, and they managed to make it to the factory gates where a row of policemen separated the mob of onlookers from the ticket winners. One officer looked over the newcomers with a suspicious glare. "What're ye doin' here? Are ya the last ticket winner, lad?"

"Yes, sir." Artemis flashed his ticket, and the officer nodded respectfully, stepping aside to let Artemis and his escort pass.

The looks he received from the other children were no less scathing than the ones he was given by the crowd of rabble outside the protective ring of policemen. He recognised each of them, but as he had declined a public announcement of his Ticket "find", no one knew who he was, which was the way he wanted to keep it. He may have wanted to indulge his inner child just this once, but that didn't mean he could blow his cover. He still was Artemis Fowl the criminal mastermind, after all.

When they approached the other winners, the one named Violet Beauregarde raised a brow, chewing her gum loudly as she sized up the newcomers. "Who are you?"

The others asked the same question inaudibly, looking toward Artemis and his escort with distrust. Aliases, he could handle. "Connor Lafferty," he said coolly, holding out a hand. Violet ignored it, craning her neck to look up at Butler. "Are you his dad?"

"Uncle," Butler said. "Patrick Lafferty."

"You don't look Irish," a boy said. Artemis recognized the critical voice of Mike Teavee. He was about to snap a retort when the bells of a nearby church rang out the hour, and the doors to the factory swung open, and everyone in the crowd held their breaths as someone in ornate purple attire came out of the factory doors.

"There he is!" somebody shouted. "That's him!"

And so it was! Mr. Wonka was standing all alone just inside the open gates of the factor. And what an extraordinary little man he was! He had a black top hat on his head. He wore a tail coat made of beautiful plum velvet. His trousers were violet. His gloves were a lovely shade of lavender. covering his chin, there was a small neat pointed beard-a goatee. And his eyes-his eyes were most marvelously bright. They seemed to be sparkling and twinkling all the time. The whole face, in fact, seemed to be alight with fun and laughter, which Artemis found to be rather unsettling. Suddenly, he did a little skipping dance, spread his arms wide as if to embrace the crowd, and smiled at the five ticket winners and their escorts. "Welcome my little friends! Welcome to my factory! Will you come forward, one at a time please? And bring your parents. Then show me your Golden Ticket and give me your name. Who shall be first?"

The big fat boy—Augustus—moved forward, but was shoved aside by Veruca, who dragged her embarrassed father behind her. "My name is Veruca Salt."

Artemis wanted to smash her in the face right then and there, or at least have Butler do it, but Mr. Wonka did not seem to notice her behavior in the least.

"My dear Veruca! What a pleasure this is! And how lovely you look in that pretty mink coat!" He glanced at her ticket and waved her and her father in. Next came Augustus Gloop and his mother, and Artemis wondered if Wonka noticed how the two waddled as they walked. It was rather unbecoming, but as before, Wonka greeted them both amiably, bestowing the same warm welcome upon Mike Teavee and his father and the despicable gum-chewing girl and her mother. He had to admit...if Wonka noticed the obvious flaws in the other four children, he managed to hide his disgust pretty well.

Finally, his turn came. It felt rather strange to approach someone he had long regarded as a genius of equal or greater talent. And as far as candymaking was concerned, Wonka was undoubtedly his superior. He held out the Golden Ticket with one hand, the other stretched out for a handshake. "Connor Lafferty," he said, his tone fitting for a gentleman. Wonka smiled, clasping the boy's hand in both of his. "Ah, you must be the late finder! Lucky you! I was afraid no one would have found the fifth one in time, but I suppose I was wrong! Good to have you! He turned to look at Butler, a flicker of bewilderment passing over him for the briefest instant. "And this must be..."

"My uncle," Artemis said. "Patrick Lafferty."

Wonka became all smiles again. "Of course, _of course_! I can see the family resemblance!"

_Was that sarcasm?_ Artemis wondered. But he didn't have long to think about it, because Wonka was ushering the group of visitors toward the factory doors.

"Here we are!" cried Mr. Wonka, trotting along in front of the group. "Through this big red door, please. That's right! Nice and warm inside! I have to keep it warm because of my workers. They are used to an extremely hot climate! They couldn't possibly stand the cold. They'd perish if they went outdoors in this weather!"

"Who are the workers?" Mike Teavee asked.

"Obviously people from a hot climate," Artemis replied, eliciting an amused look from Wonka.

"_That's_ the spirit! Now, through these doors please. Thank you, thank you. Let's keep moving!" he led them down a long corridor, so wide that a car could have driven through it. The walls were pale pink, and the lighting was soft and pleasant.

"How quaint," Artemis commented, strangely pleased by all the things he was seeing and smelling. Scents of all kinds were wafting through the hall, and he could make out specific aromas like coffee and cream and sugar and mint and lemon and coconut, but the most overpowering of all was the smell of rich melted chocolate! And far away in the distance, from the heart of the great factory, came a muffled roar of energy as though some monstrous gigantic machine was spinning its wheels at breakneck speed.

"Now this, my dear children," Mr. Wonka said loudly to be heard above the distant roar, "is the main corridor. There are some pegs here to hang your coats on...yes, those. We will come back to get them on the way out. Now, this way. Follow me!" He trotted quickly down the hall with the tails of his velvet coat flapping behind him, and the visitors hurried after him. Not all of them were in shape, however, specifically the Gloops, and Mrs. Gloop in particular was huffing and snorting like a constipated rhinoceros as she struggled to keep up the pace. Mr. Wonka was oblivious in his excitement; without glancing behind to make sure the party was following, he trotted briskly through a maze of corridors. The place was like a giant rabbit warren, with passages leading in every direction. Butler kept a hand on Artemis' shoulder the whole time. "The last thing you would want would be to get lost in here," he said lowly so that only Artemis could hear.

"Notice how all the passages are leading downward!" called out Mr. Wonka. "We are now going underground! All my important rooms are deep down below the surface! There wouldn't be nearly enough room for them on the top!"

"Ingenious," Artemis marveled to himself. "Perhaps we could do the same beneath Fowl Manor."

Suddenly, after what seemed like a long time of wandering deeper and deeper underground, Mr. Wonka stopped. Before him was a shiny metal door. Everyone gathered round. On the door, in bold black letters, it said: THE CHOCOLATE ROOM

* * *

><p>What Happened in the Chocolate Room<p>

"This is the nerve centre of my factory! Mr. Wonka said proudly, taking a bunch of keys from his pocket and slipping one into the keyhole of the door. "It's the heart of my business! And it is beautiful! I insist upon my rooms being beautiful! I can't abide ugliness in factories!"

Artemis caught the candymaker stealing a glance at Augustus...or had it been his imagination? No matter. The lock clicked open, the door swinging inward. Wonka was bubbling with excitement. "Do be careful, my dear children! Don't lose your heads! Don't get overexcited! Keep very, very calm!"

It was a good thing he warned them, because the sight that awaited them was mind-boggling in itself.

It was an amazing sight: they were looking down upon a lovely valley. Green meadows lay on either side of the valley, and along the bottom of it there flowed a great brown river. Even more spectacular was the tremendous waterfall crashing away at the midpoint of the river—a steep cliff over which the water curled and rolled in a solid sheet, and then went pouring down into a boiling, churning whirlpool of froth and spray. Below the waterfall, a whole mass of enormous glass pipes were dangling down into the river from somewhere high in the ceiling. They were enormous, at least three feet in diameter, and there must've been a dozen of them sucking steadily at the brown muddy water from the river and carrying it to who-knew-where. And because they were made of glass, you could see the liquid flowing and bubbling along inside them. Graceful trees and bushes were growing daintily along the river-banks, along with numerous bushes and flowering plants and vines. In the meadows there were thousands of buttercups.

"Every drop of the river is hot melted chocolate," Wonka said, much to the surprise of his guests. "The finest quality, of course," he added. "In fact, there's enough chocolate to fill every bathtub in the whole country! And the swimming pools as well!" He pointed to the pipes, a smile twitching at his lips. "Those pipes suck up the chocolate and carry it away to all the other rooms of the factory! Ten thousand gallons...every hour!"

"Brilliant," Artemis managed to say, and he really meant it. Wonka beamed at him. "Maybe so, but the waterfall is most important! It mixes up my chocolate! Churns it up, makes it light and frothy! But it's the only way to do it just right! The only way!" He walked on, gesturing to the plants and trees as the others walked behind him.

"Do you like my trees? And my lovely bushes? How about my grass? Please try a blade, please do. It's do delectable, so good looking..."

"You can eat the grass?" asked a dumbfounded Augustus Gloop. He looked down, a greedy look in his eye.

"Of course you can!" Wonka cried. "Everything in this room is eatable! Save for me, and you, of course. But other than that, everything is eatable! Go ahead—try something!"

Everyone stooped and plucked a blade of grass, a leaf or fruit from a tree. Augustus Gloop appeared to be having a hard time deciding what he should gorge on first. Artemis put on his best smile and walked up to him. "Hey, Augustus," he said casually. The fat boy gave him a confused look. "Ja?"

"Trinken sie vom fluss." He said this in perfect German, and for a moment Augustus gave him a stupid look, as if he could hardly believe this stranger had spoken to him in his mother tongue. Artemis repeated slowly. "Trinken sie vom fluss."

_Drink from the river_.

Augustus threw a look toward the chocolate river, understanding the suggestion. Greed returned to his eyes, and he lumbered off toward the riverbank while Artemis returned to where the others stood, looking around casually as if nothing had happened. He opened his mouth to say something to Butler, who was looking around in both wonder and suspicion, but he was interrupted by a shrill shriek of excitement from Veruca Salt, who was standing with her father near the riverbank. She was pointing frantically to the other side of the river. "Look! Look over there!" She screamed. "What is it? It's a little person! Down there by the waterfall!"

Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked in the direction she was pointing, though Artemis rolled his eyes before turning around. His scepticism was replaced by curiosity, because there really was a little man, gathering candy-fruits by the waterfall!

"Do you see that Butler?"

The manservant nodded.

The others went on exclaiming the oddness of the little man, growing wild with excitement as more of them appeared seemingly from nowhere.

"What are they doing?"

"Where do they come from?"

"No higher than my knee!"

The tiny men-they were no larger than medium-sized dolls-had stopped what they were doing and were now staring back across the river at the visitors. One of them pointed towards the children, and then he whispered something to the others with him, and they all burst into peals of laughter.

Across the river, Butler tensed. He sensed something was amiss, but he didn't know what it was.

"They can't be real people," Mike Teavee said critically. Wonka gave him an irritated look.

"Of course they're real people! They're Oompa-loompas!"

"Oompa-loompas?" everyone said at once.

"Imported directly from Loompaland," said Mr. Wonka proudly.

"Makes me wonder how he managed to smuggle them past immigration," Artemis murmured to Butler.

"There's no such place," Mr. Teavee said, eying the candymaker as if he were mad.

Mr. Wonka raised his hands in placation. "My dear sir, but..."

"Mr. Wonka," cried Mr. Teavee, "I happen to be a teacher of high school geography, and I'm here to tell you..."

"Then you should know all about it!" Mr. Wonka exclaimed. "And oh, what a terrible country it is! Nothing but thick jungles infested with the most terrible beasts imaginable-hornswogglers and snozzwangers, and those terrible wicked whangdoodles. A whangdoodle would eat ten Oompa-loompas for breakfast and come galloping back for a second helping. When I went there, I found the little Oompa-loompas living in tree-houses to escape the terrible beasts below. And they were pretty much starving to death, because all they had to eat were these disgusting caterpillars that tasted revolting. There was one thing they craved after in particular...and that was: the cacao bean. But cacao beans did not grow particularly well in Loompaland; an Oompa-loompa was lucky if he could find three or four cacao beans a year." he paused, raising a finger to emphasize. "Cocoa beans happen to be the very thing from which chocolate is made, so I offered to bring the Oompa-loompas here to work in my factory. They would be safe from the terrible beasts of their country, and I would pay them in cacao beans and candy. They accepted and work for me now." He smiled mysteriously. "They are such wonderful workers...but I must warn you, they are rather mischievous! Always playing jokes..."

"Daddy," Veruca Salt said suddenly, "I want an Oompa-loompa!"

"All right sweetheart," Mr. Salt said soothingly, I'll get you one before the day is out. We shouldn't interrupt Mr. Wonka."

"But I want one now!"

"Augustus!" Mrs. Gloop's voice rang out over the sound of the waterfall crashing down, and everyone looked over to see her rushing toward Augustus, who was drinking hot melted chocolate from the river. "Augustus, that is not a good thing to do!"

When Mr. Wonka turned around and saw what Augustus was doing, he cried out in alarm. "Augustus, stop! You are dirtying my chocolate!"

"Augustus," Mrs. Gloop continued, "Did you hear what Mr. Wonka said? You must come away at once!"

But the impetuous boy was oblivious to all but the desire of his greed, and he continued to scoop the chocolate from the river, unaware that he was slipping. It was inevitable; Augustus leaned too far out, and he fell into the chocolate river with a shriek and a splash of molten chocolatey goodness. He clawed his way to the surface, sputtering and bawling.

"You must do something!" Mrs. Gloop cried to Mr. Wonka entreatingly. "He cannot swim!"

"There's no better time to learn," Mr. Wonka replied.

Artemis thought he detected a hint of spite, but he could not be sure for the commotion that Mrs. Gloop was making.

"Dive in and save him!" she said to Mr. Salt, who only gave her an incredulous look. "Don't be daft woman, I'm wearing my best suit!"

Augustus, meanwhile, was able to stay afloat, for liquid chocolate is denser than water, but in his panic he thought he would be pulled under. His frantic splashing, however, only brought him closer and closer to the sucking glass pipes, and before anyone actually made a move to save him, he was pulled under the surface and was sucked into the pipe. Everyone looked on in horror, though Artemis found it grimly amusing.

Mrs. Gloop was hysterical now, waving her purse about. "Call the fire brigade! Do something!"

But she froze when she heard the sound of a drum, and the Oompa-loompas across the river began to sing.

About halfway through the chorus, Augustus, who had been stuck in the glass pipe, had been conveniently unstuck and rocketed upward to goodness who-knew-where. Mrs. Gloop watched, stricken, but she was unable to get Mr. Wonka's attention until after the Oompa-loompas' song was over.

"He's gone!" she shrieked. "He'll be made into marshmallows at any minute!"

"Nonsense!" Wonka cried. "Impossible!"

"Why?"

"Two reasons." he held up two gloved fingers, counting them off. "One, marshmallows aren't made of chocolate! They are made up of coconut extracts and soybean oil and sugars and all sorts of things that make them fluffy and delicious! Second, that pipe doesn't go anywhere near the Marshmallow Room!"

"Then where does it go?" Mrs. Gloop demanded.

"That pipe," Wonka said, "Happens to go to the room where I make the most delightful strawberry flavored, chocolate covered fudge!"

Mrs. Gloop took a moment to process this. "Then my son...will be made into strawberry flavored, chocolate covered fudge, and they'll be selling him by the pound, all around the world?"

Mr. Wonka giggled. "Don't be absurd! Could you imagine, Augustus-flavored, chocolate covered Gloop? The taste would be terrible! No one would buy it."

His calm reply merely served to infuriate the woman, who prepared for a fearsome retort. But Mr. Wonka called over an Oompa-loompa. "I want you to take Mrs. Gloop to the Fudge Room," he said seriously. "Help her find her son. He is probably in the chocolate mixing barrel, so be sure to find him before the hopper pours into the boiler."

The Oompa-loompa giggled in reply, then motioned to Mrs. Gloop. The hysterical woman tore her angry glare from Mr. Wonka and followed after the tiny man.

Mr. Wonka waved. "Good-bye, Mrs. Gloop! Farewell! Across the desert lies the Promised Land! You'll see!"

Mr. Salt pulled his daughter closer to him, looking at Mr. Wonka suspiciously. "I must say, that all seemed rather rehearsed."

"What? Oh, you mean the Oompa-loompas?" Mr. Wonka waved dismissively. "You mustn't believe anything they say…it's all one big joke to them! But I assure you Augustus is fine, perfectly fine."


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**: all familiar material belongs to either Roald Dahl, author of _Charlie and the Chocolate Factory_, Warner Bros. for the film adaptations of the book, and Eoin Colfer, author of the _Artemis Fowl series._

**A.N.** Muchos gracias again _to **Harry Artemis Jackson** for the reviewal! more people should, since a range of critiques helps broaden a writer's perspective. Keep reading, and reviewing!_

* * *

><p>The Boat Ride<p>

While he was speaking, a fantastic pink boat cruised into view along the chocolate river, and Mr. Wonka indicated it with a proud sweep of the arm. "This is my private yacht! I made herby hollowing out an enormous boiled sweet! Isn't she beautiful? See how she comes cutting through the river!"

The gleaming pink boiled-sweet boat glided up to the riverbank. One hundred Oompa-loompas, give or take, rested on their oars and stared up at the visitors. Then suddenly, for some reason best known to themselves, they all burst out into shrieks of laughter.

"What's so funny?" asked Violet Beauregarde.

"Oh, don't worry about them," Mr. Wonka said quickly. "They're always laughing. Like I said before, everything is a joke to them! Now, get into the boat, all of you!"

The party lined up to get aboard the fantastic boat, and once again Veruca shoved to the front, her father making excuses for her. "Ladies first, and that means Veruca."

Artemis snorted. "If she's a lady, then I'm a hornswoggler." He and Butler got in last, and on account of the manservant's larger frame, they sat in the back where there was the most room. Mr. Wonka sat next to Artemis, smiling enigmatically at the boy before motioning to the Oompa-loompas. "Onward!"

One Loompa at the prow beat upon a drum, keeping a rhythm for the rowers to row with. The boat moved smoothly through the chocolate, and Artemis found his mind wandering. He thought of Mr. Wonka, of his candymaking genius and how wonderful it would be to speak with him on a one-to-one basis. Someone who could understand what it felt like to be undervalued and underestimated. The world outside took Mr. Wonka and his magical candy for granted; if they could see everything that Artemis was seeing right now, they might realise just how amazing the candymaker was. He was startled from his thoughts by a nudge, and he looked over to see Mr. Wonka offering him a mug of melted chocolate that had come from the river. Artemis reached for it automatically, then respectfully declined. "Didn't Augustus Gloop just contaminate the whole river?"

Mr. Wonka remembered suddenly, and he opened his mouth to say something, possibly a curse, but he restrained himself. "I'm sorry," he said to Artemis. "I forgot. But you can have these instead." He reached into his coat and handed the boy a small packet of hard candy.

"What are these?"

"Rainbow drops. If you suck on them, you can spit in seven different colors."

"Spitting is a dirty habit," Violet Beauregarde said a few rows from the front. She said this while chewing loudly, the sound of her lips smacking and flapping made Artemis cringe. "I know a worse one," he said. Mr. Wonka smiled faintly, though he started when Mike Teavee called from the front.

"Look! A tunnel!"

Mr. Wonka stood up. "Row on! Full speed ahead!"

The drummer beat faster, the rowers rowed faster, and the boat sped into the dark tunnel.

Artemis was not worried. Mr. Wonka would have done this before, and would so know what he was doing.

The other members of the group were not so confident.

"How can he know where we're going?" asked Violet Beauregarde.

"We can't!" Mr. Wonka said with a laugh. "There's no knowing where we're going!"

This was met with an incredulous cry from one of the fathers, but Mr. Wonka only smiled serenely until he had had his fun. "Switch on the lights!"

Overhead floodlights switched on, blinding everyone but the Oompa-loompas and Mr. Wonka, who had been through all this before. When their eyes adjusted, they could see that they were in a gigantic white pipe, and the great upward-curving walls of the pipe were pure white and spotlessly clean. The river of chocolate was flowing very fast inside the pipe, and the Oompa-loompas were rowing like mad, and the boat was rocketing along at a furious pace. Mr. Wonka, much to the bewilderment of the others, was jumping up and down in the back of the boat, calling to the rowers to go faster and faster still. He seemed to love the sensation of whizzing through a white tunnel in a pink boat on a chocolate river, and he clapped his hands and laughed and kept glancing at his passengers to see if they were enjoying it as much as he. Before long, they came upon a curious sight…there were doors, of varying shape and color, set into the walls of the tunnel just above the level of the river. Artemis managed a glimpse of the first door they passed, and the writing on the door: STOREROOM NUMBER 54, it read, ALL THE CREAMS—WHIPPED CREAM, DAIRY CREAM, VIOLET CREAM, COFFEE CREAM, PINEAPPLE CREAM, VANILLA CREAM, AND HAIR CREAM.

Apparently the others had noticed it too, for Mike Teavee gave a disgusted sound. "Hair cream?" he cried. "You don't use Hair Cream?"

"No time for silly questions!" Mr. Wonka shouted.

The boat streaked past another door, which happened to be open. The passengers of the boat were able to peer into the room as the vessel sped past, and they were appalled to see a dozen Oompa-loompas whipping a cow.

"That must be how you get your whipped cream," Artemis deduced.

Mr. Wonka beamed at him. "Precisely!"

"That doesn't make any sense," Veruca Salt said snidely.

Artemis was about to make a sharp retort, but Mr. Wonka beat him to it and abruptly called for a stop. The Oompa-loompa rowers all dug their paddles into the chocolate river, backing water furiously. The boat halted suddenly, nearly all the passengers falling out of their seats. This included Veruca, who would have also fallen into the river if her father hadn't caught hold of her. He looked angrily at Mr. Wonka, but the candymaker only smiled innocently. "Sorry for the sudden stop, but there's something I wanted to show you all." He pointed to a bright red door nearby, and the Oompa-loompas guided the boat over to that side of the river, bringing her alongside the door. Mr. Wonka took a key from his pocket and leaned over the side of the boat, and put the key in the keyhole. "This is the most important room in the entire factory!" he said proudly. "All my most secret inventions are cooking and simmering in here! All my competitors would give anything to get a peek in here, but that would defeat the purpose of having this room in the first place!" He paused, looking seriously at every child and every parent. "Now listen to me; I want no meddling about when you go in! No touching, no meddling, and no tasting! Is that agreed?"

"Yes, yes!" the children cried. "We won't touch a thing!"

Artemis, speaking along with the others, somehow doubted that everyone was telling the truth. He saw a particularly suspicious look pass between Mike Teavee and his father, and Veruca Salt and her father. He dismissed the thought almost instantly, though…Mr. Wonka was opening the door. He stepped out of the boat and into the room. The four children and their parents all scrambled after him.

* * *

><p>What Happened in the Inventing Room<p>

"Don't touch!" Mr. Wonka warned. "And don't knock anything over! These are all my latest and greatest ideas brewing and stewing away in here!"

And so there were. Numerous machines and gadgets of indeterminate use filled the room; there were clear vats and bubbling pots and glass beakers over Bunsen burners that had brightly colored stuff boiling and steaming away. The group of people meandered about the place as if it was a museum, and Mr. Wonka and his machines were the exhibits. The candymaker had become suddenly more excited than usual, and anyone could see that he loved this room best of all. He was hopping about among the saucepans and steaming vats like a child among Christmas presents, not knowing which one to open first. He lifted the lid from a huge pot and took a sniff, throwing some things in a moment after. Then he rushed over to a barrel that held a lot of sticky yellow stuff and had a taste, then he skipped across to one of the machines and turned half a dozen knobs this way and that, satisfied when the machine made a lot of whizzing and humming that none of the guests understood. Then he ran to another machine, a small shiny affair that kept going _phut_-_phut-phut-phut-phut_, and every time it went _phut_, a large green marble dropped out of it into a basket on the floor. At least it looked like a marble.

"Everlasting Gobstoppers!" cried Mr. Wonka. "These are completely new! They're for children who have very little pocket money. You can suck on them all year, and they'll never get any smaller!"

"It's like gum," said Violet Beauregarde, smacking loudly on her own piece.

Mr. Wonka frowned slightly. "No. Gum is for chewing. And if you chewed on one of these, you would shatter your little teeth like spillkins! But they do taste terrific, provided you eat it right!" He turned toward another machine, though Artemis looked back thoughtfully at the Everlasting Gobstopper machine. Butler gave him a knowing look. "We should follow the others, sir."

Artemis appeared to snap out of his reverie, a smile touching his lips. "Of course, _Uncle_. We don't want to fall behind."

"…and a mustache," Mr. Wonka was saying, "and a beard!"

"Who wants a beard?" Mike Teavee said.

"One would suit you very well," Mr. Wonka said, much to the amusement of the others. Mike did not find it funny, and he turned away sulkily.

"I've got it far too strong though, Mr. Wonka sighed. It works too well to be practical…an Oompa-loompa tried some last week, and well…" he looked down, and everyone else looked down, to see a mass of walking hair standing among them. It was an Oompa-loompa, perhaps, but the hair had grown so long that his whole body was hidden from view. If you looked close enough, though, you could just barely see little toes poking out from the bottom of the veil of hair.

"I'll get it right eventually," Mr. Wonka said, dismissing the Oompa-loompa with a wave. "Now, if you'll come along, I'll show you something I am terrifically proud of."

Mr. Wonka led the party over to a gigantic machine that stood in the very center of the Inventing Room. It was a mountain of gleaming metal that towered above everyone, composed of gleaming glass and glistening metal and blinking indicator lights. Mr. Wonka appeared to inspect a few of the dials turning a few of them this way and that before turning to the others. "Ready for this?"

Mr. Salt straightened his tie. "Actually, Mr. Wonka…"

"Alrighty then! Here we go!" Mr. Wonka pressed three different buttons on the side of the machine, and a mighty rumbling noise came out of it. Everyone backed a few paces away as the strange contraption made strange hissing and buzzing noises, the blinking lights flashing a multitude of colors. A moment later the noises ceased. A tiny drawer popped out of the side of the machine, and in the drawer there lay something so small and thin and grey that everyone thought it must be a mistake. The thing looked very much like a little strip of grey cardboard. Mr. Wonka took it out and held it up for everyone to see.

"You mean that's _it_?" Mike Teavee said incredulously.

"Do you even know what 'it' is?" said Mr. Wonka.

Violet Beauregarde gave a cry of recognition. "By gum, it's gum!"

"Right you are!" Mr. Wonka cried, his excitement palpable. "And not just any gum…it's a stick of the most amazing and fantastic gum in the whole world! This little piece of gum is a three-course dinner all in itself!"

Artemis was amazed. Of course, everything he had seen thus far in the factory was amazing, even to his genius mind. But to fit a whole meal in a piece of gum was absurd! It must take a battery of chemical processes to synthesize just one piece, let alone enough to supply the whole world. But Mr. Wonka seemed to think it was possible, and the candymaker enthusiastically explained the ramifications of his gum-meal research. Meanwhile, Artemis noticed the way Violet Beauregarde was eyeing the piece of gum in Mr. Wonka's hand. He stepped over so that he was standing just behind her, pretending to listen to what Mr. Wonka was saying. He spoke out of the corner of his mouth, his voice a low whisper. "I hear you broke the world record for chewing gum," he said casually. But the real fame is being the first one to do something."

She flashed him an annoyed look. "What are you talking about?"

"Anyone can break a record," Artemis said coolly, "but you can't expect to get famous for doing something that anyone can, like chewing gum for a long time. That is actually somewhat disgusting."  
>"It is not!" she hissed.<p>

Artemis ignored her. "Now, if you were to be the first to chew, say an experimental kind of gum, then you might go down in the history books on the same level as Neil Armstrong or John Glenn. They were the first to do something, thus they became great." He shrugged. "I'm sure you'll get your chance eventually."

She shot him a glare, but her eyes invariably went from him to the little strip of gum in Mr. Wonka's hand. "I'll show you," she muttered, moving past Artemis to get near Mr. Wonka. He paused in midsentence, giving her a quizzical look.

"Come on, Mr. Wonka, hand over this 'magic' gum of yours and we'll see if the thing works."

"Now Violet," said Mrs. Beauregarde, her mother, "don't do anything stupid."

Violet only shot her a glare. "I'm a world champion gum chewer! I'm not afraid of anything!"

"I'd rather you didn't," Mr. Wonka said gently. "There are still a few things that I have to fix…"

But Violet snatched the gum from Mr. Wonka's hand, removed her other piece of gum, and set to work chewing the new piece all in one swift movement. Mr. Wonka was too shocked to reprimand her, and his face paled as he watched her chewing away at the gum.

"Fabulous!" Violet shouted. "It's tomato soup! It's hot and creamy, and I can feel it running down my throat!"

"Stop!" cried Mr. Wonka. "Don't!"

But she didn't listen, and the parents were too curious to stop her. Artemis looked on, fighting a smile. Butler placed a hand on his shoulder. "Someone should do something before she turns out like that fat kid. Shall I stop her?"

"She wanted the gum," Artemis replied. "It's a free country. Let get what is coming to her."

Butler opened his mouth to say more, but did not get the chance. There was a shriek…from Mrs. Beauregarde, though Mr. Teavee looked shocked enough to have screamed himself…and Artemis and Butler looked up together to witness a stunning transformation. Violet Beauregarde was turning a brilliant shade of purple—her hands, her face, even her hair were changing color, but that was not all. Gradually, she was expanding.

"I feel sick," Violet said.

"You're swelling up! Mrs. Beauregarde shrieked. "You're blowing up like a balloon!"

"Like a blueberry," Mr. Wonka said sadly. "It always goes wrong with the desserts. Always. I've tried it twenty different times on twenty different Oompa-loompas, but they always end up as blueberries. Maybe I would be better off substituting the blueberry pie with blackberry, but…"  
>"I don't want a blueberry for a daughter!" Mrs. Beauregarde wailed. "You put her back this instant!"<p>

Mr. Wonka snapped out of his reverie. "Of course, madam, of course!" he clicked his fingers, and ten Oompa-loompas appeared immediately at his side. "Roll Miss Beauregarde to the Juicing room at once!"

"The _Juicing Room_?" cried Mrs. Beauregarde. "What will they do to her there?"

"Squeeze her," said Mr. Wonka. "They've got to squeeze the juice from her immediately, or else she'll explode…"

"Explode?"

"Not to worry, though. It's a quick and relatively painless process from what I've heard. We'll get her repaired if it's the last thing we do. I am sorry about it all, I really am…"

The Oompa-loompas rolled Violet out of the room, a disconsolate Mrs. Beauregarde following closely behind. A number of Oompa-loompas left their stations to perform a catchy song number, and Mr. Wonka danced a little jig to the astonishment of his guests. When it was over, he motioned toward another corridor. "Let's boogie!"


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: all familiar material belongs to either Roald Dahl, author of _Charlie and the Chocolate Factory_, Warner Bros. for the film adaptations of the book, and Eoin Colfer, author of the _Artemis Fowl series._

Thanks to: **Harry Artemis Jackson** and **The QAS **for input and reviewal, and doublethanks to The QAS for catching Artemis' age error. I've not had the privilege of reading the AF books in order, so details about ages are sometimes confused. Keep the comments coming!

Author's Notes_:  
><em>_I_ _apologise in advance if Artemis' attitude is not up to par...the idea is that he's trying to seem appealing to Willy Wonka, even to the point of suppressing his own bold behavior. As he substitutes for Charlie Bucket, he is _supposed_ to seem good and good-hearted in comparison to the other four children, rather than bratty or obnoxious._

_It should also be noted that much of the story is taken directly from the book _Charlie and the Chocolate Factory_. I've only adapted it with Artemis Fowl characters and parts from the films. _

_If I was conducting a tour of my factory, I wouldn't tell people what stuff is _really_ made of._

* * *

><p>Square Candies that Look Round<p>

"Well, well, well, said a smiling Mr. Wonka, walking briskly ahead of everyone else, "two naughty, nasty little children gone. Three good little children left. I do hope you all _behave_ for the rest of the tour. I should hate to lose anyone else."

The three remaining children—Veruca Salt, Mike Teavee, and Artemis Fowl (alias Connor Lafferty)—together with the three remaining grownups, followed after him. Mr. Wonka was saying, "No time left for messing about! We'll never get anywhere t the rate we've been going!" And on he rushed, down the endless multicolored corridors, with his top-hat perched on his head and his plum-colored velvet coattails flying out behind him like a flag in the wind. They passed a door in the wall. "No time to go in!" he shouted. "Press on!"

They passed another door, then another and another. There were doors every twenty paces or so along the corridor now, and they all had something written on them in English and a language that none of them understood.

Artemis figured it was for the Oompa-loompas. Loompanese or something of that sort.

They rushed past countless more doors, until finally they came upon one marked SQUARE CANDIES THAT LOOK ROUND.

"Wait!" cried Mr. Wonka, skidding to a halt. He stopped so fast that Mr. Salt almost collided with him.

Mr. Wonka flashed him a smile, as if in forgiveness, then addressed everyone. "I am very proud of my Square Candies that Look Round. Take a minute to catch your breaths, and we'll take a peek."

Everybody stopped and crowded around the door. The top half was made of glass. Looking in, they could see a long table, and on the table there were rows and rows of small white square-shaped candies. The candies looked very much like sugar cubes, except that each of they had a funny little pink face painted on one side. At the opposite end of the table, a number of Oompa-loompas were busily painting more faces on more candies.

"There you are!" said Mr. Wonka with a bright smile. "Square candies that look round!"

"They don't look round to me," said Mike Teavee.

"They look square," said Veruca Salt.

"I never said they weren't," said Mr. Wonka."

"You said they were round!" exclaimed Veruca Salt. "But they look square!"

"Now see here," Mr. Wonka said firmly. "These candies _are_ square. But they _look_ round."

"No they don't!"

"There are other ways to look round," Artemis said coldly.

"Exactly!" said Mr. Wonka, flashing Artemis a pleased, toothy grin.

"Don't pay any attention to him," said Mr. Salt. "He's lying to you!"

Mr. Wonka huffed. "I'll prove it to you!" he pulled out a key from his coat pocket and put it in the keyhole. "Watch this!" he opened the door, and suddenly, all the rows and rows of little square candies looked round to see who was coming in. The tiny faces actually turned toward the door and stared unblinkingly at Mr. Wonka.

"There you are!" he cried triumphantly. "They are most definitely square candies that look round!"

"He's right," Mr. Teavee murmured.

Mr. Salt clenched his jaw in embarrassment.

Veruca Salt sulked.

"Come along!" said Mr. Wonka, starting off down the corridor again. "Off we go! We mustn't dawdle!"

* * *

><p>What Happened in the Nut Room<p>

They didn't stop until they came to a door marked THE NUT ROOM. Here Mr. Wonka halted, his gaze settling knowingly on Mr. Salt. "We can stop here for a moment to rest, and have a peek through the glass panel of this door. I am very proud of my Nut Room."

Mr. Salt nodded. "It is a good business, one that I myself am familiar with. You see, Mr. Wonka, I too am in the nut business. What machine do you use to do your sorting?"

"Machine?" Mr. Wonka echoed questioningly. "We don't use machines for simple things like nuts."  
>"Then what do you use?"<p>

Mr. Wonka gestured to the door. "See for yourself."

Everyone crowded around the door to have a look. It was an amazing sight. One hundred squirrels were seated upon high stools around a large table. On the table were mounds and mounds of walnuts, and the squirrels were all working away like mad, shelling the walnuts at a tremendous speed.

"These squirrels," Mr. Wonka explained, "are trained to get the nuts out of walnuts."

"Why use squirrels?" Mr. Salt asked. "Why not use Oompa-loompas?"

"Because," Mr. Wonka said, his tone condescending, "Oompa-loompas can't get walnuts out of walnut shells in one piece. They always break them in two. Only squirrels can get walnuts whole out of walnut shells every time. And because I insist on only using _whole_ walnuts in my factory, I must use squirrels to do the job. And the best part is, they can tell the difference between a good nut and a bad one without even having to open it! See how they tap it with their little knuckles? If it's bad, it makes a hollow sound, and they throw it down the garbage chute. There! That squirrel nearest us has found a bad one!"

They watched the little squirrel as he tapped the walnut shell with his knuckles. He cocked his head to one side, listening intently, then suddenly threw the nut over his shoulder into a large hole in the floor.

Artemis noted the delighted expression in the eyes of Veruca Salt and stepped closer to her, despite his immense dislike for her. "Those squirrels are pretty amazing," he said, forcing a pleasnt tone. And it was true, but it was only a tool to get Veruca talking.

"Oh yes," she said.

"Reminds me of a performing bear I saw in Russia, only squirrels are much smaller, and don't have the teeth of a bear. I am sure a squirrel would make an interesting pet…especially a trained one."

"Don't think I don't know what you're doing," Veruca snapped, keeping her voice low so that she would not be heard over Mr. Wonka, who was explaining something about the squirrels' eating habits. "I saw you talking to the other two children before they got into trouble. Do you think I'm stupid?"

"Not at all," he lied. "I was merely stating the fact that a trained squirrel could be a good, useful pet. It's not as if they could attack you. A squirrel is smaller than a bear, less threatening than a river of chocolate or a piece of defective chewing gum." He smiled, a bit tauntingly. "Forget I said anything. I don't think your father would let you have one anyway."

Veruca glared at him. "We'll see about that."

"Daddy," she said suddenly, "I want one of those squirrels. Get me one of those squirrels!"

Mr. Salt gave her a tired look. "Veruca, you already have many marvelous pets."

"But Daddy, all I've got at home is two dogs and four cats and six bunny rabbits and two parakeets and three canaries and a green parrot and a turtle and a bowl of goldfish and a cage of white mice and a silly old hamster. I want a squirrel!"

"Daddy will get you a squirrel just as soon as he can…"

"But not just any squirrel! I want a _trained_ squirrel!"

Mr. Salt sighed. "Very well." He stepped forward. "Mr. Wonka," he said importantly, taking out a wallet full of money, "how much do you want for one of those squirrels?"

"They're not for sale," Mr. Wonka said.

"Name your price," Mr. Salt insisted. "I'm sure I can meet any sum that you…"

"I'm sorry," Mr. Wonka said firmly, "but they're not for sale. She can't have one."

Veruca's expression darkened with anger. "Who says I can't? I'm going to get me a squirrel this very minute!"

"Don't" Mr. Wonka said quickly, but Veruca ignored him and pushed her way into the room. The moment the door had opened, a hundred squirrels stopped what they were doing and turned their heads and stared at her with small black beady eyes. Veruca Salt stopped also, and stared back at them. It was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop.

Veruca scanned the rows of squirrels, and her gaze fell upon a pretty little one sitting near her at the end of the table. The squirrel looked back at her questioningly, its head tilted slightly.

"All right," Veruca said. "I'll have you!" She reached out her hands to grab the squirrel…but as she did so…in that first split second as her hands started to go forward, there was a sudden flash of movement in the room, like a flash of brown lighting, and every single squirrel in the room launched themselves off their stools and raced toward her. Twenty-five of them caught hold of her right arm. Twenty-five caught hold of her left arm. Twenty-five caught hold of her right leg. Twenty-four caught hold of her left leg. And the one remaining squirrel (presumably the leader of them all) climbed up on to her shoulder and started knocking on the wretched girl's head with his little knuckles.

"Save her!" Mr. Salt was shouting frantically. "Veruca! What are they doing to her?"

"They're testing to see if she's a bad nut," Mr. Wonka said.

The squirrel cocked its head, listening to the sound Veruca's head made. It gave a signal, and the other squirrels started dragging Veruca toward the yawning mouth of the garbage chute.

"Oh my," Mr. Wonka said. "She is a bad nut after all."

"Where are they taking her?" shouted Mr. Salt.

"Where all the bad nuts go," Mr. Wonka said. "to the garbage chute. Weren't you paying attention at all when I was talking about it?"

"Where does the chute go?"

"To the incinerator," Mr. Wonka said as if it were no big deal.

Mr. Salt thought otherwise. "Now you see here, Mr. Wonka, I admit my daughter may have acted badly, but she doesn't deserve to be sizzled to a crisp! I'll have the health inspectors after you for this!"

"My dear sir," Mr. Wonka said calmly, straightening Mr. Salt's tie, "she won't be burned or hurt, I can assure you. In fact, she may not have gone down the chute at all. She may be stuck, just below the opening. Garbage gets stuck there all the time, you know. Causes a nasty backup." He opened the door and gestured for Mr. Salt to enter the room. "All you have to do is reach into the hole, and pull her back up!" he demonstrated with an arm. Mr. Salt nodded gravely and walked over to the hole. He leaned over to look into it. "Veruca? Are you down there? I'm coming to pull you up! Veruca?"

Mr. Wonka shook his head. "Oh dear…"

A squirrel rushed forward and ricocheted off Mr. Salt's ample rear end, pushing him forward. He fell into the garbage chute with a holler, but the sound was drowned out by another song number by the Oompa-loompas. When the song came to a close, the Oompa-loompas left and the squirrels returned to their workstations.

"And that," Mr. Wonka said while closing the door, "is why you don't mess with squirrels while they're on duty."


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: all familiar material belongs to either Roald Dahl, author of _Charlie and the Chocolate Factory_, Warner Bros. for the film adaptations of the book, and Eoin Colfer, author of the _Artemis Fowl series._

Thanks to: **Harry Artemis Jackson **for the regular comments, and thanks to anyone else who leaves their thoughts for me! Updating fast makes it hard for others to slip in reviews and remarks before the next update, but comments on past chapters are welcome too. I just can't bear to keep readers in suspense for the next installment...I know I hate waiting for the next part of a story, even when I am the one writing it.

* * *

><p>The Glass Elevator<p>

"I've never seen anything like it!" Mr. Wonka said. "The children are disappearing like rabbits! Well, there _was_ that one time during the Great War, but that's an entirely different story! Not to worry, though…they'll all come out in the wash!" Mr. Wonka looked at the little group that stood beside him in the corridor. Threw were only two children left now—Mike Teavee and Connor Lafferty (aka Artemis). And there were two grownups, Mr. Teavee and Patrick Lafferty (aka Butler).

"Let's keep going," Mr. Wonka said cheerily, leading the little group down the hall.

"My feet are getting tired," said Mike Teavee. "And I bet one of my favorite programs is on right now. I want to watch television."

"If you're tired then we'd better take the elevator," Mr. Wonka said. He led them to a pair of double doors and pressed a button. The doors slid open. The two children and grownups went in.

"Now then," cried Mr. Wonka, "which button shall we press first? Take your pick!"

Artemis looked about himself in wonder. The elevator was made entirely of a clear substance, like glass. All the walls were lined with buttons, also glasslike, and the ceiling had buttons on them too. Beside each button was a label. He could have just sat and read the labels, but he wanted his take a turn before Mike Teavee took his. There was no doubt which button the TV-addict would press anyway. He pressed a button with his index finger, the elevator making an unexpected lurch to the side.

"What's going on?" shouted Mike Teavee.

"This is a special elevator!" Mr. Wonka explained. "It can go in any direction so that it can visit any room in the factory!" He glanced at the button that Artemis had selected. It was illuminated with a soft peach light. The label read GUMDROP GARDEN.

"Oh good! I love that garden! Good choice, Connor."

Artemis felt a twinge of guilt at the mention of his fake name, but he ignored it, his gaze fixed on the wonders passing by. Because the elevator was made of glass, everyone could see the rooms they were passing through. Some were small, the size of bedrooms and offices, but others were huge and spanned the length of numerous football fields. There were forests and mountains made entirely of candy…fields that had machines drilling into the ground, lakes filled with steaming, bubbling liquid.

Finally the elevator came to a stop, and the doors opened to a wonderful sight. It was another garden, like the Chocolate Room, but there was no chocolate river, no waterfall, no gleaming pipes that sucked up the chocolate. There was no grass, either; the ground was coated in glittering white powder that looked very much like sand, and the white sandy plains sprawled as far as the eye could see, spotted with clusters of brightly colored bushes or trees. Mr. Wonka stepped out of the elevator and beckoned to the others. "Come on, and I'll show you around."

He led them along a cobblestone path that, he explained while walking, was composed of a special kind of gumdrop that solidified when pressure was applied to it. The sand was one hundred percent sugar, and was used for powdering gumdrops, which grew from the trees and bushes.

"Do Oompa-loompas ever come in to collect the sugar?" Mr. Teavee asked.

"Every day," Mr. Wonka said. "But we must have caught them in the off hour…they may be fooling about in the Butterscotch Room." The idea brought back his sense of urgency. "I apologize for not being able to spend more time in here, but we really must get going. Can't leave the Oompa-loompas to their own devices for too long, you know. Come along! There's one more room to see! Mike Teavee will choose it."

Back in the Elevator, Mike Teavee scanned the rows of buttons for a likely choice. "Isn't there a television room in all this lot?"

"Certainly," Mr. Wonka said. "That button, over there." He pointed with his finger, and everyone looked. It read TELEVISION CHOCOLATE.

"All right!" shouted Mike Teavee. He punched the button with his thumb, and no sooner had it lit up did ht elevator shoot off at breakneck speed. Artemis lost his balance and fell backwards, but he was caught by Butler, who was holding on to a strap on the ceiling.

"Sorry."

"Don't be. It's my job to look after you."

Mr. Teavee had fallen down also, and Mr. Wonka offered him a hand. "Get up, get up! You'll miss the whole thing!"

The elevator began to climb, as if it were on a steep incline. Then it dropped—

Artemis held tightly to Butler, Mike held firmly to his father, and Mr. Wonka held firmly to his hat. Then the dropping evened out until they were traveling levelly again, but the elevator swerved back and forth like a car that had gone out of control. The next moment, there was the screaming of brakes, and the elevator began to slow down. Then it stopped entirely.

"Some ride! Mike Teavee said.

"No more for me, thanks," Mr. Teavee said.

Artemis and Butler said nothing. They had been on crazier and deadlier rides before.

The doors of the elevator slid open and Mr. Wonka said, "Just a minute now! Listen to me! I want everybody to be very careful in this room! There is dangerous stuff in here and you must not tamper with it."

* * *

><p>What Happened in the Television Room<p>

The little group stepped out of the elevator into a room so dazzlingly bright and white that they screwed up their eyes in pain and stopped walking. Mr. Wonka handed them each a dark pair of glasses and said, "Put these on quick, and don't take them off! The light in here could burn your eyes right out of their sockets!"

No one had trouble complying, and as soon as they had put on the glasses, they could see their surroundings more comfortably. They were standing at the edge of a long narrow room. The walls and ceilings were white, and the floor was white too, and there wasn't a speck of dust anywhere. There were bright lamps set into the ceiling, and they cast a harsh blue-white light on everything. The room was completely bare save at the far ends. At one end there was an enormous camera-like machine and a number of Oompa-loompas in white jumpsuits that busily polished the lens and casing. At the other end of the room there was a television set, and an easy chair in front of it that was occupied by another Oompa-loompa who was also wearing a white jumpsuit.

This," Mr. Wonka said, "is my latest and greatest invention—Television Chocolate!"

"What does that mean?" Mike Teavee asked.

"Good heavens child, don't interrupt!" cried Mr. Wonka. "It works by television. I don't like television myself, but this invention could revolutionize the world by merging the film and food industry. Of course, in order to understand how this works, you will have to know how a regular television system works. At one end, the picture is taken by a video camera. Then that picture is taken and broken up into a million tiny pieces and these little pieces are sent out into the sky by electricity in a current until they hit an antenna and run through a series of wires down to your television set. Then the little pieces tumble about until they are put together, and the picture appears on your screen!"

"Actually…" Mike Teavee began to say, but Mr. Wonka cut him off.

"The same principle works for Television Chocolate, but with physical objects! Why send a picture when you can send the real thing? A bar of chocolate, for example…imagine, you are sitting at home, and a commercial will come on. It will say: Wonka's chocolate is the best in the world. If you don't believe it, try one for yourself! And then you reach out, and grab it!"

"That's impossible," Mike Teavee said scornfully.

"Oh yeah? Watch this!" Mr. Wonka clicked his fingers, and six Oompa-loompas came into the room, bearing a chocolate bar the size of a mattress.

"It has to be big," Mr. Wonka said, "because whenever you send something by television, it always comes out smaller than it was when it went in. It's a physics problem concerning inverse proportions and distance squares…in theory, it is a simple problem, but in life it's not. I'll solve it eventually, though."

The Oompa-loompas set the chocolate on an upraised platform in front of the giant camera.

"Okay," Mr. Wonka said with a wave to the Oompa-loompas, "Switch on!"

One of the Oompa-loompas caught hold of a large switch and pulled it down.

There was a blinding flash.

"The chocolate's gone!" shouted Mr. Teavee, his mouth agape in disbelief.

Mr. Wonka smiled. "See? Told ya. That chocolate bar is now in a million tiny pieces, whizzing in the air above our heads. Quick! Let's go check the television to see what we get!" He led them to the other end of the room where the large television set was standing, and the others followed him.

"Watch the screen!" he cried. "Here it comes!"

The screen flickered and lit up. Then suddenly a small bar of chocolate appeared in the middle of the screen.

"Take it!" shouted Mr. Wonka. He danced from foot to foot in a display of utter excitement.

"How can you take it?" asked Mike Teavee, snorting. "It's just a picture on a screen."

Mr. Wonka looked to Artemis. "You take it, then."

Artemis had his doubts, but there was no harm in trying. He reached out his hand to touch the screen, and miraculously the bar of chocolate came away in his fingers. He was so surprised that he almost dropped it.

"See?" Mr. Wonka said, flashing a look of triumph to Mike Teavee. "It's the same bar; it's only gotten smaller on the journey. Go ahead and eat it. I guarantee…it'll taste delicious!"

"It's a miracle," said Mr. Teavee.

Mr. Wonka reiterated all the possible benefits this invention could have for the world, but only the two adults were listening. Artemis was pretending to listen too, but he wanted to plant an idea in Mike's head first.

"Mr. Wonka's invention is remarkable, isn't it?"

"Mike scowled in irritation. "Yeah. So what? All it does is send crummy chocolate bars fifty feet across a room. Big deal."

"Maybe Mr. Wonka hasn't tried anything else yet," Artemis said. "Maybe he doesn't want to test it on the Oompa-loompas because they are already so small. If they went through the television, there might be nothing left. Maybe if someone larger was willing to test it, Mr. Wonka would reward him, or his name would go down in the history of TV."

Mike's eyes lit up at the idea, but it was clear he would not breach the subject with Mr. Wonka. Artemis decided to help him out. He cleared his throat to get Mr. Wonka's attention.

"But can you send people?"

The candymaker's brow wrinkled in question. "People don't taste very good. Why would I want to send those?"

"But could you if you had wanted?"

"Well…I suppose. But it might have some nasty consequences."

That was all the confirmation Mike Teavee had needed. He had started running toward the control booth near the camera when Mr. Wonka had said "I suppose". Before anyone could say or do something to stop him, he flipped the large activation switch, jumped in front of the camera, and was gone in a flash of blinding light.

"Mike!" cried Mr. Teavee, running to where his son had stood not a moment before. "He's gone."

Mr. Wonka rushed over and put a hand gently on his shoulder. "We must hope for the best. We must pray that your little boy will come out unharmed on the other end."

Though this did nothing to console Mr. Teavee, he willingly followed Mr. Wonka to the television set. They waited.

"He's taking an awfully long time to come across," he said.

"A million pieces take a long time to put back together," Artemis said.

"I don't wish to alarm you," Mr. Wonka said to Mr. Teavee, "but just occurred to me that sometimes only half of the pieces come through. If you had to choose half of your son, which half would it be?"

"I suppose it would be the top half," Mr. Teavee said sarcastically.

"Look!" said Mr. Wonka, something is happening! He's coming through!"

Faintly at first, but becoming clearer and clearer every second, the picture of Mike Teavee appeared on the screen. He was standing up and waving. He was grinning from ear to ear. "That was great!" he said, his voice no louder than the squeak of a mouse. "I'm the first person in the world to be sent by television! I'll be famous now!"

"Grab him," ordered Mr. Wonka.

Mr. Teavee reached out and took Mike by the shirt collar. "He's a midget!"

"Just put me back the other way!" squeaked Mike.

"There is no other way," Mr. Wonka said. "This is television, not telephone. One way street. I'm afraid you're stuck the way you are, little boy."

Mike appeared to get very angry, and he threw a tantrum while dangling from his father's fingers. Mr. Teavee put the insufferable boy in his shirt pocket, looking wearily to Mr. Wonka. "Well…"

"Well," Mr. Wonka said, "I've read somewhere that little boys are extremely stretchy and springy. They stretch like mad. So we'll just put him in my taffy puller, and he'll be right as rain sooner than you think!"

"Thank you," Mr. Teavee said, doing his best to ignore the angry squeaking from his breast pocket. Mr. Wonka clicked his fingers, and the Oompa-loompa who was sitting in the easy chair stood at attention. "Take Mr. Teavee and his…little boy…to the Taffy pulling room. Help him get his son stretched out."

The Oompa-loompa nodded, then tugged Mr. Teavee on the pantleg, motioning for him to follow. As they left, the Oompa-loompas around the giant camera broke into another song that was catchier than all the others that had been sung that day. At the end, Artemis clapped his hands lightly, and the Oompa-loompas bowed before returning to their stations.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: all familiar material belongs to either Roald Dahl, author of _Charlie and the Chocolate Factory_, Warner Bros. for the film adaptations of the book, and Eoin Colfer, author of the _Artemis Fowl series._

Thanks To: **Harry Artemis Jackson** and **The QAS** for the regular remarks! Thanks also for all those silent readers, though I wish you would say something so that I know what you're thinking! I'm especially curious about what people will think of this final chapter...

**A.N.** _Speak up! Suggestions, comments, questions, likes, dislikes...the story may be at an end, but you never know when I'll write another one!_

* * *

><p>The Winner<p>

Which room shall be next?" said Mr. Wonka as he turned away and darted into the elevator. "Come along! Hurry up! And how many children are left?"

Artemis and Butler shared a look.

"Mr. Wonka," Butler said, speaking for the first time in hours, "Connor is the only one left."

Mr. Wonka swung round and stared at Artemis. There was a moment of silence. Artemis stood as straight as he could.

"You mean you're the only one left?" Mr. Wonka said, pretending to be surprised.

Artemis nodded, feeling very excited for some reason. He knew something major was going to happen. "Yes, sir."

Mr. Wonka suddenly exploded with glee. "But my _dear_ boy, that means you've won!" He took Artemis' hands in both of his, shaking them so hard that Artemis feared he would dislocate both shoulders.

"Oh, I do congratulate you! I really do! I had my doubts at the beginning, but well done, _well_ done! This is terrific! Now the fun will really start! But we mustn't dilly! We mustn't dally! Let's get back in the elevator, and I will explain things on the way! There are so many more things we need to put in order!" He pressed a button labeled UP AND OUT. The elevator shot up like a rocket. Artemis had an idea from the name of the button concerning what would happen next. He felt slightly afraid that the elevator would shatter, but he figured that Mr. Wonka knew what he was doing. He didn't doubt the genius candymaker for a second.

"I've been waiting to press that button for years!" Mr. Wonka said as the elevator shot up faster and faster. "I was tempted many times, but I couldn't bear to make a big ugly hole in my roof! Here we go, boys! Up and Out!"

Despite his faith in Mr. Wonka, Artemis braced himself. Butler wrapped his arms protectively around the boy, shielding him in case the elevator shattered into a million jagged pieces.

Then suddenly—CRASH! And the most tremendous noise of splintering wood and broken tiles came from directly above their heads. Then there was a rushing of air, and Mr. Wonka gave an exultant cry. "We're through! We're out!"

"We're alive," Butler muttered.

Sure enough, the elevator had shot right through the roof of the factory and was now rising into the sky like a rocket, and the sunshine was pouring in through the glass roof. In a matter of seconds, they were a thousand feet up in the sky. Mr. Wonka pressed another button, and the elevator came to a standstill, hovering in place like a helicopter.

"How does this thing stay up?" Artemis asked curiously.

"Candy power! Said Mr. Wonka. "One million candy power! Oh, look!" he pointed down at the factory gates. "There are the other children! They're going home!"

Mr. Wonka pressed another button, and the elevator dropped a few hundred feet so that they could get a better view of the people as they left the factory. There were the Gloops, Augustus being curiously thin and covered in chocolate.

"Getting sucked up the pipe must have made him thinner," Artemis deduced.

Then came Violet Beauregarde and her mother. Mr. Wonka clapped his hands. "They got her de-juiced! Wonderful! And look how flexible she is!"

"She's blue," Artemis said.

"She's _purple_! Mr. Wonka said. "A wonderful shade for anyone! She should be proud. I don't believe there are any other purple people in the world, unless they are living in the sewers. But that is a different story of course! Here come the Salts!"

Mr. Salt and Veruca trailed behind the others, reeking of garbage. The Oompa-loompas had done their best to clean the off the food stains and peelings, but Veruca's mink coat and Mr. Salt's business suit were hopelessly ruined.

"I suppose being dirty is better than being burned to a crisp," Artemis said.

Finally, Mr. Teavee came out of the door, followed by something that looked like it should have come out of a cartoon.

"Is that Mike?" Artemis asked, genuinely surprised. The person was at least ten feet tall, and was as thin as a sheet of cardboard.

"They must have overstretched him on the taffy puller," Mr. Wonka sighed. "How very careless. I shall have to speak with the manager about this."

The unfortunate guests exited through the factory gates, each party getting into one of several Wonka delivery trucks.

Artemis watched them drive away, but he couldn't help but notice a small boy, about his own age, standing on the other side of the road and looking wistfully at the factory. He saw the boy turn and head for a ramshackle house just down the road from the factory. Mr. Wonka must have thought he was wondering about the delivery trucks.

"In case you are wondering, they still get their everlasting supply of candy," he said, "though they might not find it as sweet as they had hoped. I like to keep my word, even to those who do not know how to behave. Now, Connor Lafferty, we have much to talk about." He pressed another button, and the elevator swung up into the sky.

The great glass elevator was now hovering high over the town, its passengers looking down beneath them in amazement.

"How I love my chocolate factory," said Mr. Wonka, gazing down. Then he paused, with a most serious look on his face. "Do _you_ love it too, Master Fowl?"

Artemis was taken completely by surprise. "How did you know…"

Mr. Wonka smiled. "I have connections. How else would I have gotten the Oompa-loompas into the country? Besides, it's no secret among smugglers that a certain ten year old boy has quite a mind for undercover operations, as well as a fondness for my chocolate. And you, Mr. Butler…no need to draw your gun. Yes, I know you have one. You can keep it in your coat pocket."

Butler put his hands down.

"Thank you."

"If you knew who we were all along," Artemis said, "then how come you didn't say anything about it?"

"Because I know how difficult it is to be misunderstood," Mr. Wonka said, his smile softening slightly. "And to want contact with someone you admire. But this is all beside the point. I believe I asked you a question. And I want a genuine answer, not an alias. Do you love my chocolate factory too, Artemis?"

Before the boy could reply, there was a ringing from Butler's pocket. "My apologies," he said. He took out the cell phone and answered it, turning toward the corner so that Mr. Wonka and Artemis could speak without interruption.

"Mr. Wonka," Artemis said honestly, "I think your factory is the most wonderful place in the world."

"I am very pleased to hear you say that," Mr. Wonka said, "because I am giving it to you."

Artemis was shocked. "Mr. Wonka…"

"It's true. I am getting too old to run a chocolate factory anymore. And soon enough, I will be gone altogether. Who will run my factory for me then? I couldn't have an adult do it. They would want to do it their way, not mine. And as intelligent as the Oompa-loompas are, they need someone to protect them and provide a face for the business. Only a good, honest child could do that. I think that child is you."

Artemis wasn't sure what to say. He felt a warm feeling deep in his chest, expanding slowly to fill his entire being. Mr. Wonka wanted _him_ to have the chocolate factory? It was a dream come true! He looked brightly over to Butler, who had finished speaking on the cell phone, eager to share the news. But the look on the manservant's face was grim.

Artemis' joy evaporated instantly. "What was it, Butler?"

"Your father's ship was destroyed. They have not yet recovered his body."

The warmth in Artemis' chest was replaced with ice. His father…missing? He turned toward Mr. Wonka, whose smile had lessened some, but had not disappeared. He seemed eager for Artemis to lay claim over the factory.

"Mr. Wonka," Artemis said heavily, a lump forming in his throat. "I am afraid...I must...decline your offer."

The candymaker seemed flabbergasted. "But…but…you said you loved it…"

"I do," Artemis assured him. "And I always will. But my father has gone missing, and my mother will be needing me. My family's business will be needing me. I would not be able to run a chocolate factory…no matter how much I wanted to."

Mr. Wonka looked down at his shoes. "Who will take over the factory, then? How will I find another good child?"

Artemis remembered the little boy he had seen near the factory. "There might be one closer to you than you think." He pointed down toward the ramshackle house. "Try there."

Mr. Wonka, still shocked by Artemis' decline, numbly piloted the glass elevator over to the little house. He wasn't paying attention to where he was going, and so crashed through the roof. Luckily the elevator came down on empty floorspace and no one was hurt, but the starving family who lived there was none too pleased by the destruction done to their house. All the members of the family glared at Mr. Wonka through the glass elevator, save for one youthful face who smiled in excitement. It was the small boy who Artemis had seen earlier. "It's Willy Wonka!" he cried in delight.

Encouraged by the greeting, Mr. Wonka stepped out of the elevator. He went right to the kitchen cupboards and looked through them, smiling when he came across a toothpaste-cap model of the chocolate factory. _Artemis was right_. He turned round to see Artemis and his manservant leaving the little house through the front door. "I'll be right back," he said to the family, and ran to the door. He called to Artemis, waving. "Make sure you stop by the factory to get your lifetime supply of candy! _Thank you_, and good luck finding your father!"

Artemis nodded grimly. There was nothing more to be said.

* * *

><p><em>Epilogue<em>

Artemis was again seated before the multiple screens in the command center. No longer was he monitoring the numerous projects that had seemed so important before. Every screen was devoted to news concerning the sinking of his father's ship, the rescue efforts, scans for information concerning the Senior Fowl that might be spread by phone or internet. He knew that hope of finding his father was slim, but he felt it was his duty to keep up a search, even when the authorities would not. It was also out of obligation to his mother that he conducted his research—after hearing that her husband had gone down with his ship, she had been driven insane. Artemis hoped he could make her better. _He missed her_.

He did take the occasional break from his work. When Butler brought him tea, he was glad to have an excuse to look away from the screens.

"Any more news on Mr. Wonka's factory?" he asked, trying to make conversation.

"The boy you pointed out to Mr. Wonka…his name is Charlie Bucket. He proved to be quite the Wonka enthusiast, according to the newspaper, and Mr. Wonka did take him and his family in. Apparently the boy is Mr. Wonka's new heir."

Artemis sighed. "I am glad he was able to get an heir even after I refused. Not that I wouldn't have taken him up on his offer."

Butler nodded. "It is unfortunate, though, that you were unable exploit him in some way…aside from the lifetime supply of candy, of course."

Artemis smiled slyly, holding out his hand. "Who said I didn't?"

He uncurled his fingers. In the center of his palm rested a large green marble.

At least, it looked like a marble.


End file.
